


Under Pressure

by ProdigyBlood



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Confused Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley's not sure whether that means they are or not, Everyone Thinks They're Together, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Living Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 19:09:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19818685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProdigyBlood/pseuds/ProdigyBlood
Summary: Had they become a couple without Crowley realising?Fuck. How was he meant to find out? He couldn’t very wellask.He couldn’t risk scaring Aziraphale away if he were wrong. Plus, well… it was just embarrassing, wasn’t it? He was a demon. Demons weren’t meant to be in relationships with angels (or anyone, really) and they certainly weren’t meant tohopethat they were.





	Under Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> random Queen song for title because I haven't done that yet and that is _shocking_
> 
> this was quickly written and is vastly unedited, as much of my stuff is XD Apologies if awful

Sergeant Shadwell and Madame Tracey had given them the idea. Settle down in the country, get a little bungalow. Two can live as cheaply as one, after all, not that an angel and demon really need concern themselves with such trivial matters as _money_.

It had seemed like a good idea, an _escape_ if you like. After everything they’d been through, the quiet of the country was rather appealing. 

Of course, neither could think of anywhere better than the idyllic village of Tadfield. It was a rather beautiful spot, full of friendly faces and – not necessarily fond but certainly not awful – memories. 

Crowley’s flat had never been a home, and Tadfield was close enough that Aziraphale could pop back to the bookshop if it struck his fancy. Nothing was keeping them in London. 

Neither angel nor demon was sure whose idea it had initially been, settling down together. They had never really discussed it; it had simply _happened._ It had seemed like the next logical step. They were friends after all. Immortal friends and eternity were a long time to spend alone. 

“Wait.” Anathema Device put down her cup of tea and turned to face Crowley, hands on hips. “So, when you say, ‘settle down together’ you don’t mean ‘settle down together’?” She frowned at the demon, her eyebrows knitting together above her glasses. 

The witch was round for tea and biscuits. Somehow that had become a thing they did. Crowley had settled down, taken up gardening and had weekly tea dates with a human. Some demon he was. 

“What are you talking about, witch?” He hadn’t sunk so low as to drop the cool bravado, so he kept his tone casual and indifferent.

“You’re calling yourself friends? Friends don’t ‘ _settle_ _down_ _together’_.” She removed her hands from her hips to punctuate the air with quotation gestures.

“Of course, they do.” 

“They really _don’t_.” 

Crowley grumbled and changed the subject, but he couldn’t get her words from his mind. They tortured him over the next week. It shouldn’t have bothered him really. They were an angel and a demon. They were not humans having to follow ‘normal’ social conventions. So what if they were two friends buying a house together in the country? It wasn’t as if either of them cared what other people thought. 

That wasn’t strictly true, though. Crowley cared what _Aziraphale_ thought. Previously he hadn’t dared allow himself hope but, well, what if he’d missed it? What if his angel felt the same after all? Maybe this arrangement was more than Crowley had realised? 

Aziraphale was dense, but he was wise in the ways of love. If it were weird for people to settle down together if they weren’t a couple, then it was completely possible the angel knew this. 

Had they become a couple without Crowley realising?

Fuck. How was he meant to find out? He couldn’t very well _ask._ He couldn’t risk scaring Aziraphale away if he were wrong. Plus, well… it was just embarrassing, wasn’t it? He was a demon. Demons weren’t meant to be in relationships with angels (or anyone, really) and they certainly weren’t meant to _hope_ that they were.

Crowley was well aware he wasn’t your typical demon. He wasn’t even a very _good_ demon. Or, perhaps that was the problem; he was too _good_. Good in the wrong sense. He may have fallen from grace, but he hadn’t forgotten to bring his morality with him. Before the almost-apocalypse, it was something he denied, even to himself. Morals could get a demon killed, after all, and Crowley really didn’t want to die.

Now, after everything was said and done, he didn’t give a damn. 

Well… He didn’t give a damn what _downstairs_ thought.

So, if he couldn’t ask Aziraphale outright, then he was going to have to do it indirectly. 

And _that_ is how he found himself in the kitchen, wearing a pink frilly apron and covered in flour. 

“Something smells… interesting,” Aziraphale said letting himself into the house after a long walk around the village. His blue eyes scanned the room which looked less like a kitchen and more like a crime scene. “My dear… are you baking?” 

It was a valid question. While Crowley was covered head to toe in, presumably, batter and holding a plastic mixing bowl to his chest, he could just as likely been trying to create modern art. Or cement. Or modern art using cement. 

“I’m making you a cake, angel!” Crowley sounded so proud of himself that Aziraphale didn’t have the heart to tell him there was no way in Heaven or Hell that he would be eating whatever concoction Crowley was… _baking_.

“Oh,” he said instead. “How lovely. May I ask what inspired this, uh, creative decision?” There didn’t seem to be any empty alcohol bottles laying around at least.

“Well, that’s what people do, isn’t it?” Crowley asked, scrutinising the angel for any kind of reaction.

“They do? What?” 

“They move in together and bake cakes.” 

“Oh.” Aziraphale furrowed his brow but then nodded. “Okay then. Just, uh, try not to burn down the house, okay, dear?” He flashed the demon a smile and then left the room. Crowley watched him go, his smile faltering until it vanished completely with the click of the door closing. 

Well, that had been a colossal waste of time. In frustration, the demon threw the bowl to the floor. The mixture he had been stirring so thick and gloopy that it didn’t so much as splash the stone slabs.

The next evening Crowley found Aziraphale reading on the sofa and sat next to him, close enough that their knees brushed. Absorbed in the book as he was, the angel didn’t notice. Crowley budged up even closer. 

“Hello dear,” the angel said absently as Crowley flopped his head on his shoulder. He didn’t look up from the page he was reading but he didn’t push the demon away either. 

That just left Crowley even more confused. 

Tadfield’s duck pond had nothing on St James Park but it was better than no duck pond at all. They sat together on the bench and fed the ducks, not talking but not needing to. It was a comfortable silence. Crowley wasn’t even questioning it. It was stupid to question their relationship, he’d realised. Bloody Anathema had messed with his head but he was over it now. Aziraphale and he… well, they didn’t need a label for what they were. 

An old woman out walking stopped as her dog sniffed a nearby hedge. Of _course_ , Aziraphale smiled at her, inviting conversation. 

“What a handsome couple you make,” the lady said. Crowley stiffened, his mouth falling a little agape as his head twisted to look between the old woman and Aziraphale. 

“Why thank you,” the angel said, still smiling. 

What? 

No protests. No claiming they weren’t even friends? 

What. Did. That. Mean?? 

As Aziraphale reached over the pet the dogs head, Crowley thought he might be having some sort of seizure. Could his corporal body even do that? 

“Have a lovely day,” Aziraphale told the lady as she shuffled off. “Everyone in this village is so lovely,” he said, turning to Crowley. His forehead wrinkled slightly as he clocked the demon’s face. “My dear, are you quite alright?” 

Somehow Crowley managed to jerk his head in a way that seemed to satisfy the angel, who went back to feeding the ducks. 

So long for not caring about labels. How was Crowley meant to figure out whether Aziraphale was just being polite or whether he considered them an actual couple? This was all getting too much. If he were a computer he would have overheated and died by now. As it stood, he still felt a little like both those things had (or shortly would) happened. At least discorporation would end this emotional torment. 

“You have to help me,” Crowley said to Anathema over tea the following week. “I’m going crazy here.” 

“Just _ask_ him.” She seemed quite impatient. Crowley wasn’t sure why he bothered with the witch; if she wasn’t going to help then what use was she? 

“I _can’t_ ,” he groaned. “You don’t understand. We have a complicated history. I go too fast for him. I don’t want to scare him away.” 

“Look,” the witch said impatiently. “All I’m saying is that every time I’ve seen his aura, its clear he’s feeling love.” 

“That’s because he’s an _angel_ ,” Crowley said between gritted teeth. Behind her glasses, Anathema rolled her eyes. 

“And _you_ are an idiot,” she said simply, turning her attention back to her tea. 

They spent the next ten minutes in silence, Crowley stubbornly pouting while Anathema watched him in amusement. When Aziraphale got home just as Anathema was picking up her bag, she gave the angel a bright smile. 

“Anathema my dear, how lovely to see you. Am I just missing you?” 

“Afraid so,” she said. “Quick question before I go, though.” 

“Yes?” The angel gave her a pleasant, expectant smile. 

“Are you in love with Crowley?” 

For the briefest of moments, you could have heard a pin drop. Before Aziraphale could even open his mouth to respond, Anathema’s words fully sunk in and Crowley dropped his mug. It shattered on the hard floor, spilling tea and shards of ceramic everywhere. As he gawped, Anathema gave him a pointed look that said ‘well, you asked for my help’. 

Looking between the pair, a bewildered expression on his face, Aziraphale opened his mouth. Perhaps he planned to answer Anathema’s question, perhaps he just wanted to ask what was going on, but the witch smiled brightly and quickly dismissed herself before he could do either. When the door clicked shut behind her Aziraphale turned to find Crowley staring at the table as if it were telling him an interesting story. 

“Is that what’s been bothering you?” Aziraphale asked quietly. 

“Bothering me?” Crowley repeated, the words slipping out of his mouth far too quickly. He didn’t look up. “Nothingsss bothering me, angel.” 

“You’ve been behaving strangely all week.” 

Crowley said nothing. Aziraphale sighed, waving his hand to miracle away the mess on the floor before making his way over. 

He placed a well-manicured hand on top of Crowley’s balled fist. He didn’t miss how the demon’s hand trembled. 

“My dear,” he said softly. “I’m sorry that I have not made myself perfectly clear. How terrible this must have been for you.” If a different person had said those words, they would surely have been laced with sarcasm. From the angel, they were nothing but sincere. 

Crowley finally looked up. 

Releasing Crowley’s hand, Aziraphale reached up to remove the dark glasses that hid his eyes. 

“Much better,” Aziraphale said, meeting Crowley’s serpentine gaze. He smiled warmly at the demon. Crowley liked to collect Aziraphale’s smiles; to him, they were the most beautiful thing to ever have been created. “My dear, my _love,_ it was foolish of me to think it didn’t need saying. I suppose that I forgot you can’t feel my love like how I can feel yours.” 

Crowley just blinked at Aziraphale. Undeterred, Aziraphale cupped Crowley’s face between his hands. 

“Crowley, my darling, I love you. I’m sorry that it took me so long but please know that I never plan to let you doubt it ever again.” 

He leaned forward then, softly brushing his lips against Crowley’s. It was a chaste kiss, over almost as quickly as it began. 

It was also a very human thing to do but then, their lives had become very human. They’d been on Earth too long, they weren’t quite angel or demon anymore. They were something else. Something new. 

They were free of Heaven and Hell. They were free of Earthly conventions, too. They were whatever they wanted to be, whatever worked best for them. 

Crowley would never doubt it – doubt _them_ – again. 

Crowley felt himself shake free of his daze. “So, just checking,” he asked, slipping his hands over the pair that still resided on his cheeks, where it felt they belonged. “We _are_ a couple right?” 

“My dear,” Aziraphale said fondly, smiling at him. “I think we’re more than that. I think we’re – ”

“-Ineffable,” they said together in perfect unison.

This time when they kissed, the universe shifted and stars exploded around them. Time stopped and sped up all at once. Reality bent and broke and then fixed itself right back up again. And two sets of wings unfurled from nowhere, showering them in monochrome feathers.

**Author's Note:**

> and Crowley thinks Azira is the dense one... haha


End file.
